


Pandora's Box (of Unhealthy Coping Strategies)

by Alfreds_Mustache



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Family Bonding, Hurt Dick Grayson, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Batfamily (DCU), Secrets, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alfreds_Mustache/pseuds/Alfreds_Mustache
Summary: Dick is not okay. He's fooled his family with smiles and laughs, hoping that he might convince himself in the process. He thinks it's working, that maybe pretending isn't so bad, that maybe he's okay.... But on quiet nights like this one, the darkness that he keeps carefully tucked away and hidden from the world, decides to make itself known.(Or: Dick's been through some shit, doesn't know how to deal with the negative effects and feelings of them, pretends everything is okay... and then he slips up.)*TW- Suicidal thoughts & suicidal ideation, depression.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Everyone
Comments: 11
Kudos: 137





	Pandora's Box (of Unhealthy Coping Strategies)

He hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t meant for it to be in front of half the family either, but. It had just kind of slipped out, in the middle of everything. Usually he had the words (confessions, secrets) under lock and key in the back recesses of his mind. But today… today had been a lot, a bunch of little unconnected things that kept piling up and up and up until it was too much. Too much energy and effort for him to keep the darkness at bay, talk to people without divulging the fact that the darkness even existed at all--just smile and joke and distract and pretend…

Because maybe if he pretended hard enough --pretended that he was actually enjoying himself and having fun (like everybody else seemed to be perfectly capable of)-- then maybe it would start to be true.

They were all sitting in the living room, exhausted from the day’s events and, for the most part (with the exception of himself) seemed pretty content. Everyone was glad that tonight was a non-patrol night, which gave them all some time to relax in each other’s company and  _ breathe _ .

Maybe Dick had been too relaxed.

When his mind relaxed, the darkness seeped into the forefront of his mind, and if he wasn’t careful, it would hijack every other feeling and thought, turning him numb to the rest of the world. So numb, that he might carelessly (numbly, uncaringly) let slip the darkness that he normally kept under tight lock and key.

It was a Pandora’s Box situation, but not in that he didn’t know what was in his own mind and was curious to find out. No, it was more in the way that one small peak into the abyss would let loose unfathomable, unstoppable darkness upon the world--darkness that wasn't supposed to exist outside of his mind, that wasn't meant to be seen and observed and frighten other people.

If he broke for even a second, just enough time to let  _ one  _ thought slip into his conscious brain, the rest would undoubtedly follow. One dark thought opened a floodgate for the rest, and within seconds would overtake all of his conscious thinking, effectively breaking the seal that kept them at bay and overrunning his entire sense of self-preservation and self-worth.

He would lose himself in the darkness if he let that happen, would turn desolate and uncaring and  _ numb _ , until he didn’t care who knew, who found out, or what the consequences might be of anyone knowing about his darkness.

It was a dangerous thing, and the only way to stop it (to stop himself) was to bury it, not let it near his most conscious state of mind. If he let it out of the little box in the corner of his brain then it would drown everything else out—his emotions, his rational thinking, his sense of self-preservation, his filter.

Which brings us to the present.

Suffice to say, Dick didn’t exactly  _ unlock  _ the metaphorical box in his mind, so much as it crept open of its own accord because he’d been lured away from keeping a watchful eye on it. Lured away simply with the irresistible idea of kicking back and watching some mindless television with his family.

It would be later, at approximately ten o’clock that same night, huddled around the flatscreen TV with blankets and pillows and smiles, basking in the warm glow of dying embers and hot chocolate, that the darkness pried the words from his vocal chords and whispered them through his unpursed lips.

“I want to die.”


End file.
